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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335267">Like a bridge over troubled water</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emjen_Enla/pseuds/Emjen_Enla'>Emjen_Enla</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Peaky Blinders (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Literal Angst Cesspool, Accurate Catholicism, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Atheist Character, Christmas, Depression, Drug Abuse, Emetophobia, Ex-Catholics/Lapsed Catholics, F/M, Family Issues, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inappropriate Christmas Gifts, Mention of Father Hughes, New Year's Eve, Small Children on Christmas, Tommy Shelby Needs a Hug, weighted blankets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:48:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emjen_Enla/pseuds/Emjen_Enla</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a bit odd, that after everything else that had changed about their lives, the family’s Christmas routine hadn’t changed at all. Or Tommy tries to make it through his first holiday season after Grace's death.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ada Shelby &amp; Tommy Shelby, Charlie Shelby &amp; Tommy Shelby, Grace Burgess/Tommy Shelby, Polly Gray &amp; Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby &amp; Chester Campbell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Peaky Blinders 12 Days Holiday Challenge 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Like a bridge over troubled water</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story was originally conceived as a somewhat of angsty fic which functioned an ode to my beloved weighted blanket. That's not the fic I ended up writing. Enjoy anyway, I guess?</p><p>I wanted to have this posted on Christmas Eve, but that obviously didn't happen. In a perfect world, you'll get part 2 on New Year's, but I don't have a word of it written so we'll see.</p><p>I've tried to keep a lot of the canon plot for this AU, but I played fast and loose with canon chronology. You'll notice that some things that happen after Grace dies in canon happened before she died in this AU.</p><p>Also I finally managed to write a scene with Grace in it! Yay!</p><p>Title is from "Bridge Over Troubled Water" by Simon and Garfunkel. I can't decide how I feel about this title.</p><p>This technically fulfills prompt 4 for the 12 Days of Peaky Fest: Holiday Tension.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a bit odd, that after everything else that had changed about their lives, the family’s Christmas routine hadn’t changed at all. The festivities still started with evening mass at the same Small Heath parish they’d been attending Tommy’s whole life, followed by a late dinner, staying over at one family member’s house and then presents and food on Christmas Day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be completely honest, Tommy could have done without the tradition, especially the overly long mass. At this point in his life, Tommy attended church exactly once a year, on Christmas Eve, and that was still far too much religion for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie was good in church--Grace had been Protestant and had attended church more regularly, often taking Charlie with her--but Tommy found himself sort of wishing that Charlie would put up a fuss. A fussy four-year-old would be the perfect excuse to go stand in the entryway of the rest of mass, which would be far preferable than sitting here listening to the priest drone on and on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy went to communion even though it had been a whole year since the last time he’d set foot in a church and that was technically a mortal sin which meant he wasn’t supposed to receive communion. He had to stifle a laugh at the thought. If Hell existed, he’d be going there for far worse crimes than not going to church. Polly didn’t even bat an eyelid, which was a change from all those years ago when Tommy had first stopped going to church. Ironically, Polly didn’t go to church every Sunday anymore either, just Christmas, Easter and the anniversaries of the deaths of every member of the family save Tommy’s father. As he waited in the long line heading up to the front of the church and the priest with his dry, tasteless wafers, Tommy briefly wondered if Polly would go to mass on Grace’s death day. The thought was short-lived. He knew the answer to that question. It was no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried not to think about it, but the thought was like sliding into a sinkhole, impossible to escape. He wasn’t even sure why the thought that Polly didn’t care enough to pray for Grace’s soul bothered him. After all, it wasn’t like he believed Grace was in purgatory and would remain trapped there unless people back on Earth prayed for her soul. It shouldn’t matter to him what Polly did or didn’t do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached the front of the line. The priest held up a host. It was a jagged piece, a broken part of the larger host the priest used during the consecration ritual. After all these years, Tommy still felt a tiny flash of victory. When they’d been kids he and Arthur had kept a running tally of who got more broken host pieces. Somehow Arthur had always been winning, though looking back Tommy wondered if he’d been artificially inflating his count.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Body of Christ,” the priest said. There was something distinctly wary about his body language. He knew exactly who Tommy was and wasn’t comfortable with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy ignored the man’s nerves. He had infinitely more important things to do with his time than care whether the priest of the church he’d gone to as a child was afraid of him. “Amen,” he whispered and the priest set the host into his cupped hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked away he set the host on his tongue and chewed. The host was tasteless as wallpaper paste and stole all the moisture from his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something oddly fitting about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After mass got out, the family headed as one to a one of the few nearby restaurants which was open on Christmas Eve. It was the first time Tommy had been to a restaurant since Easter. If he had it his way he would never have eaten at a restaurant ever again (hence why he and Charlie had been subsisting on take-out for months) and being in one now made him so anxious he was physically incapable of eating. He felt cornered and exposed and he wanted to run and hide. He desperately needed a cigarette or something stronger but he was afraid to leave the family’s table. After all, hadn’t what happened proven that there was indeed safety in numbers? All he could do was keep drinking champagne, which he couldn’t feel despite his stomach being empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oddly the rest of the family did not seem as affected as he was. The solemnity of mass has worn off almost as soon as they stepped out the door and by the time they reached the restaurant they were in rare form, all shoving and laughing and dirty jokes and casual touches. The difference between this and the tense Easter they’d been having before everything had gone wrong was startling. Tommy didn’t want to speculate about why but trying not to think about something was the same as telling your brain that was all it was allowed to think about. He hated it. He did not want to consider the implications of the family being happier and more relaxed with Grace gone. He didn’t remember much of what had happened after Grace had been shot—just blood, so much blood he would never be able to wash it off, sirens and lights, and knowing, just knowing that things wouldn’t be alright—but he did remember what they’d been arguing about beforehand. He didn’t want to consider that maybe she’d been right after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally dinner was over and they all headed out of the restaurant to go to Polly’s. Tommy thought he’d done a decent job at seeming as normal as possible at dinner but as soon as they were outside in the cold Ada came up to him and pulled his car keys out of his hand. “I’ll drive,” she said with a worried smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ada and Karl had taken the train up from London where Ada had moved to get a fresh start after divorcing Freddie. She’d ridden to church with Polly, and Tommy had thought she would ride back with her too but now she was standing there holding his keys and looking at him like she was worried he was going to fly apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can drive myself,” Tommy said, his voice coming out a bit too irritable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ada’s smile got sadder like he’d confirmed something he hadn’t wanted to confirm. “I’ll drive, Tom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy didn’t want to give in, but he also wanted to get into the car with the doors locked as soon as possible. He let Ada lead the way across the parking lot and kept Charlie close by his side while she unlocked the Bentley’s doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hoisted Charlie into the car seat in the back but his hands were shaking too much to manage the seatbelt. He cursed under his breath and then Ada was there, pushing him gently aside and buckling Charlie in herself. Tommy stepped away and let out an unsteady breath. After a moment he gave up the battle he’d been fighting since leaving the apartment to head to church and fished a package of cigarettes out of his jacket. He managed to light up despite his unsteady hands and inhaled deeply drawing the smoke in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ada turned around and paused. Tommy tried to ignore her throughout the long pause while she debated what to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’d quit,” she said after a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had quit. For Grace, because she’d hated the idea of him dying of lung cancer. Then he’d started again when she’d died. “Obviously not,” he said much more flippantly than he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another long, awkward pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright, Tom?” Ada ventured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” he said and blew out a lungful of smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look Ada gave him was doubtful, but Tommy didn’t respond. After a moment, Ada sighed. “Get in the car, Tom. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy pulled the car door open. He folded himself into the seat and was surprised by the feeling of steadiness the seat lent him; he hadn’t realized that he was dizzy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ada closed the door after him and circled around to the driver’s side. Neither of them said a word. She started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They still didn’t say anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy nearly jumped out his skin at the touch on his arm. He snapped upright, his temple glancing off the car window. He didn’t feel it over the crest of adrenaline. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch, sorry,” Ada said, pulling away and holding up her hands. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy blinked vaguely and looked around. They were parked outside Polly’s nice little house in a nice little part of Birmingham. The last thing he remembered was Ada pulling out of the restaurant parking lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fell asleep,” Ada said, unbearably gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy ran his hands down his face and tried to get his thoughts to line up. He must have looked at muzzy as he felt because Ada ran a hand down his arm again, stopping to grip his elbow. “It’s late,” she said in the same gentle tone of voice. “Let’s get you inside so you can go to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy hated that tone of voice. After Grace had died it had taken months for Ada to talk to him using any other one. He gritted his teeth. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tom,” Ada said, a little sadly, but Tommy didn’t wait to hear whatever she was going to say. He shoved the passenger door open and got out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ended up managing to make it through another couple hours of the family’s loud joy. Arthur, John and Esme set to getting Michael and Finn fantastically drunk--Tommy had known he needed to worry about what would happen when Finn got old enough to drink--while Polly, Linda and Ada talked. He nursed a glass of whiskey and nibbled at the sad cheese plate Polly had set out while watching Charlie bounce around in overexcited glee with his cousins. It was nice to see. Charlie had been so quiet and withdrawn lately it was nice to see him laughing and playing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually someone realized that the kids would have to be sent to bed at some point so the adults could put out presents. Tommy made sure Charlie was tucked safely into bed in the room made up with air mattresses for all the cousins, fully aware that it was likely the kids were going to stay up all night chattering. After that they put the presents from “Father Christmas” under the tree and then finally stumbled off to bed themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There weren’t enough bedrooms in the house for everyone to get their own room, which unfortunately meant that he and Ada had to share a room by virtue of being single. The room Polly had assigned them had a twin bed pushed against each wall. Presumably she had this room for when Charlie or his cousins came over to spend the night--the fact that Polly had no grandchildren did not stop her from treating all the children in the family like they were her grandchildren--but Tommy didn’t feel like asking. He went to bed because he didn’t want to deal with Ada worrying, but hours later he was still staring at the ceiling wide awake, his thoughts spinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually he shoved aside the blankets and headed back into the living room. Polly and John still smoked and like him they were still smoking the same brand of horribly cheap cigarettes they’d bought back when they were still in Small Heath, so Tommy figured no one would notice if he smoked in the house. Even he could admit that the fact that he wanted to hide it was strange, especially given the incredulous reaction he’d gotten from Polly, John and Arthur when he’d first quit--pretty rich, actually, given Arthur had later quit when he’d met Linda--but after Ada’s reaction he found he didn’t want to test their reactions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He meant to just sit in the living room and smoke, probably until the rest of the family got up, but with no distractions the things he’d been pushing aside all day creep into the cracks in his brain to chew at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made it through a couple cigarettes anyway, trying to ignore the rawness of his own brain before it got to be too much. He shoved himself to his feet and headed back into the bedroom. His wallet was sitting on the nightstand next to his bed along with his phone. He snapped up his wallet and left the room again to close himself in the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fumbled through his wallet and dumped his change and three white pills onto the counter. He fumbled for a pill and swallowed it dry. He leaned on the bathroom sink for a few minutes until the pill started to kick in and some of the gnawing anxiety eased. Then he corralled the change and leftover pills back into his wallet and headed back into the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ada was soundly asleep, her expression peaceful. Tommy was jealous. He tossed his wallet, cigarettes and lighter back onto the nightstand and folded himself back into the bed. He buried his head under the blankets and waited for the pill to pull him under.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice to know that today was almost over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad! Dad! Wake up! It’s Christmas!” Tommy was jerked awake by Charlie leaping joyously onto the bed. “Father Christmas came!” Charlie said in the kind of awestruck voice you’d expect from a child who was absolutely convinced that jolly old men with reindeer actually traveled the world on Christmas Eve handing out presents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy shifted a bit and couldn’t completely contain a moan. His head was not having this being awake thing and neither was his stomach. At some point after he’d fallen asleep he’d started feeling actively sick. He peeled his sticky eyelids open just enough to see Charlie, who was vibrating with excitement on the edge of the bed. “What time is it?” he muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seven,” Charlie said, his eyes shining. Tommy wondered if he’d stayed up all night chattering with his cousins and if he had how the fuck he had so much energy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure you don’t want to sleep for another couple hours?” Tommy asked. His voice sounded as thick and sick as he felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie shook his head so quickly his hair flew. “Aunt Pol said we could wake everyone up for presents at seven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy figured he probably should be glad Polly had thought to put a time on it at all, or this wake up call might have been hours ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head was clearing a least a little and he was able to lift it off the pillow enough to look around the room. Ada was awake and talking to an equally excited Karl. She looked tired but not anywhere near as wrecked as Tommy felt. He needed to pull it together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against his better judgement he sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist. His stomach swooped and his head pounded, but he was pretty sure this was just a hangover and he’d definitely done things more strenuous than Christmas morning with a hangover before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t necessarily easy but he was able to get up and move before Ada noticed anything was wrong. He dressed as quickly as possible, but Ada was still out of the room before him, partially because he didn’t feel well, partially because she was alright with just pulling on a robe and partially because he was actively stalling. Once the door closed behind her he fished another pill out of his wallet and downed it. That was probably a bad idea because it hadn’t been that long since he’d taken the first one, but he needed something to get rid of the headache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finally made his way out to the living room the present opening had already begun and the house was a raucous of laughter and shouting which drove spears of pain through his head. He claimed the same armchair he’d been sitting in the night before and tried not to look too pained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the kids had opened all their presents and it was the adults’ turn the pill had started to kick in and he was feeling a little better, which was good because it gave him the ability to pretend to be alright once the rest of the family’s attention was more likely to be focused on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur and John gave him their gift, cackling like mad fools. They had never gotten over their love of giving him the cheapest gag gifts they could find every Christmas. Any since of familiarity he felt was short-lived however because he was quickly left wondering how his brothers could be grown adults and have young children of their own and not realize that giving a man with a curious four-year-old a box of sex toys for Christmas was completely inappropriate. The way the whole family found his efforts to dodge Charlie’s questions about what was in the box hilarious did not help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is not funny,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polly snorted. “Perhaps that was exactly the right gift,” she said. “He could probably use a good fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy went rigid. That was far from the worst thing Polly had ever said to him, but the tone of voice she used was the same one she’d always used to criticize his relationship with Grace which left little room for debate about why she thought he needed a good fuck. His ears rushed and he was half out of his chair before he’d even started to consider what he was planning to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to open my gift, Tom?” Ada said in her “I am heading this off before something awful happens” voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy gathered the quickly scattering tails of his self control and forced himself to settle back into his chair. “Sure, Ada,” he said, clearing his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ada went over to the tree and returned with a large box wrapped in bright paper. She lifted it like it was heavy which was weird because it wasn’t that big a box, but when she set it on his lap he was surprised to find it actually was heavy. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I swear, Ada, if this is a box of bricks-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not,” she assured him, that infuriating gentle smile on her face. “Just open it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He carefully peeled off the wrapping paper, ignoring John snorting about how he opened presents like a grandma, though Tommy had never seen the point in wasting the wrapping paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> that?” Arthur asked, craning his neck to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a weighted blanket. After the sex toys it was sort of a relief that it wasn’t something worse, but it was still an odd gift. He mostly failed at not raising a confused eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you might like it,” Ada said. “One of my coworkers at the library has one and she loves it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polly snorted and Ada shot her a death glare so intense Polly actually looked surprised, which even Tommy had difficulty doing most of the time. The look on Pol’s face almost made up for the confusion about why the fuck Ada had bought him a weighted blanket. He suspected that Ada would be more than willing to explain if he asked, but he suspected it would be the sort of explanation he would never want to hear let alone in front of the rest of the family. So he just thanked her and let the subject move on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day did not get better from there. It didn’t necessarily get worse either, so perhaps that was something to be thankful for. The family mostly left him alone like they had the night before. He managed to eat something during dinner, mostly because Ada had obviously noticed that he hadn’t eaten last night and was watching him to make sure he ate now. The family was just as loud and joyful as they had been last night. Tommy tried not to resent it, but Polly’s comment in the morning stayed with him and he couldn’t help but read into their joy and ascribe more sinister origins to it, even though he knew that didn’t make any sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the sun set Tommy wanted to call it quits and go home but he’d been drinking steadily all day and even he would admit he was too drunk to drive. Granted, he might have risked it if he’d been alone but he was far too impaired to feel safe driving with Charlie in the car which meant they were spending the night. Charlie was delighted to get to spend more time with his cousins which was perhaps the only positive of the whole thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without the pretense of needing to be able to drive to hold him back he just kept drinking and mostly checked out of the Christmas proceedings. In fact he wasn’t even aware of the passage of time until Ada put a gentle hand on his shoulder and jerked him back into himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come to bed, Tom,” she said quietly. “You look exhausted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a minute,” he said, pushing her away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you going to do if you don’t?” she asked. “Just keep drinking? All you’ve done since we got out of mass yesterday is drink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was right and he didn’t have an argument with her in him right now. It was easier to just go along with what she wanted. He let her pull him to his feet. It was probably lucky that she was there because he was drunk enough to stumble. Ada managed to catch him before he went down and drew his arm over her shoulders to hold him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, Tom,” she said, voice a bit strained as they made their slow, unsteady way towards the bedroom. “You need to lay off it. Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span> to give yourself alcohol poisoning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy was glad she didn’t know about the pills.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow they made it to the bedroom and he basically melted onto the mattress despite Ada’s suggestions that he change. He hadn’t wanted to go to bed, but now he had to admit that it was nice to lie down. After a minute of trying to convince him to change, Ada gave up and just pulled his shoes off and gently laid the blankets over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was hovering on the very edge of sleep when someone knocked quietly on the door. Ada opened it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you got him to go to bed, thank goodness,” It was Uncle Charlie. “He’s been so strung out all day. Maybe some sleep will help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Ada said. There was a hesitant pause. Tommy forced himself to remain as still as possible so they wouldn’t realize he was awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not alright, Ada,” Uncle Charlie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Ada said. “It’s obvious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncle Charlie sighed. “Not sure how Polly’s missed it. Arthur and John I get, but Polly? It’s like she’s so blinded by relief at not having to deal with Grace anymore that she’d forgotten to care about how he’s dealing with it. And he’s visibly not dealing with it well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy tensed at the mention of Grace and Polly but forced himself to remain still. He wanted to hear the rest of the conversation and getting angry and giving himself away would not help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think he should see someone?” Ada ventured, hesitantly, like she knew she might be saying the wrong thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should he?” Uncle Charlie snorted. “Yeah, probably. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Would</span>
  </em>
  <span> he agree to see someone? Probably not. Likely we’ll have to help him as best we can ourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Ada said. “I just don’t know how to help him. He’s pulled away completely and I’m in London now and can’t just show up at his apartment when he ignores my texts like I used to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Curly and I have tried going over a couple times,” Uncle Charlie said. “But he’s never home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, Tommy had been home a couple times that Uncle Charlie and Curly had tried to come over but just hadn’t answered the door. He didn’t want anyone but him and Charlie in their new apartment. That was why he hadn’t given any of the family spare keys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm worried,” Uncle Charlie said. “Every time a member of the family calls I’m afraid it’s going to be because something happened to him.” He paused and then went on awkwardly like he knew he was crossing a line, “Because he did something to himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wouldn’t do something like that,” Ada said. “He wouldn’t leave Charlie.” She did not sound certain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s hope not,” Uncle Charlie said. He was obviously trying to soothe Ada but his tone of voice was the one he used to talk about Tommy’s mother, so he mostly failed. Tommy was beginning to wish he’d just revealed that he was still awake when this conversation began, but it was too late for that now. As horrible as listening to this conversation was, interacting with Ada and Uncle Charlie if they realized he’d heard them would be worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ada and Uncle Charlie fell back into silence, each obviously lost in their own thoughts, before eventually saying their goodnights. It was obvious that neither of them really knew what to do about him. Tommy wasn’t sure how he felt about that and he tried not to think about it while he listened to the soft sounds of Ada getting ready for bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even after she was asleep it took him a long, long time to doze off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Easter had been at a restaurant that year. Tommy hadn’t exactly been sure why or at the very least he’d done his best not to think about why. It was a nice restaurant, anyway, way more than he’d ever imagined being able to afford as a kid. He should have been proud to be able to afford it now, but mostly he was worried about Charlie and his cousins or Polly and Grace making a scene.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Polly’s opinion on Grace fluctuated from annoyed tolerance to outright malice and Tommy had never been able to predict the mechanisms behind that fluctuation. Mostly he was reduced to trying to keep Polly and Grace apart and praying that Polly would be in a good mood when that wasn’t possible.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Polly was in a very, very bad mood on Easter. In fact, she was in rare form even for her. Tommy had no idea what had happened to make her so nasty, though he was pretty sure the mere reminder of Grace’s existence was enough to set Pol off sometimes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anyway, they’d finished dinner before Grace got fed up. It had happened before--Grace was no damsel in distress and she was perfectly capable of matching Pol’s cruelty with cruelty of her own--but today was different. Polly said something--Tommy couldn’t even recall what--and instead of taking it or fighting back Grace simply got up and walked out of the restaurant. Tommy followed her. Polly shouted something vulgar after him and he flipped her off over his shoulder as he left the dining room.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He found Grace in the alleyway outside the restaurant, back pressed against the wall. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest and her teeth were clenched. She was shaking, but Tommy knew her well enough to know it was from rage. He leaned against the wall next to her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Grace-” He began, not quite sure where to start.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I called a cab,” she said, her lips barely moving. It was at times like these that Tommy wished he’d never stopped smoking; Grace looked like she could use a cigarette. “You and Charlie can stay as long as you want, but I will not.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t try to convince her to stay. He knew how to tell when her mind was made up and right now it was. Besides, it would be an insult to imply that she should try to put up with anymore of Polly when she was like this. “You don’t need to take a cab,” he said. “Give me a minute to get Charlie and the car and we’ll all go home. I don’t want to be here if you aren’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Grace hissed air out between her teeth. “She’s...I know that she’s never going to forgive me but she’s so hateful.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was true that Pol was probably never going to forgive Grace for almost getting them all sent to prison during her detective days, and perhaps it would have even been out of character if she had, but that was different than saying the way she treated Grace was acceptable.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll talk to her,” he promised.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Grace snorted. “Like that would do any good. She’ll just go after you for letting me control you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She wasn’t wrong, but he’d do it anyway. “I don’t care what she thinks of me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Grace gave him a look. “Tommy, we both know that’s a lie.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t argue with that. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Grace-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, listen to me,” Grace snapped. “You keep going on about ways to fix this. You’ve been going on about ways to fix this for years, and it’s never worked. It’s never </span>
  </em>
  <span>going</span>
  <em>
    <span> to work.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy didn’t know how to respond to that. “Grace, I-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m done, Tom,” Grace said. She pushed herself off the wall and whirled around to face him. “I’m done dealing with her. I’m not going to tell you to cut contact with your family or that Charlie can’t see them, but I am done associating with them, especially Polly. I ever have to spend an instant in the same room as her again, it will be too soon.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For a minute all Tommy could do was stare as it sunk in. This was something he had never expected. The family was difficult to deal with at times but the idea of separating oneself from it had never occurred to Tommy. That was fundamentally impossible, though Grace was only a member of the family by marriage so maybe it was different for her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I swear, Tommy,” Grace said through her teeth. “If you try to talk me out of this, I will-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, I’m not going to-” He said, but then footsteps sounded at the mouth of the alley. Tommy glanced over Grace’s shoulder to see who it was. It was a man. He looked vaguely familiar but not familiar enough that Tommy was sure he’d ever seen him before. Tommy looked back to Grace. “I’m sorry, Grace,” he said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t apologize,” Grace said. “Just-” she shook her head. “I don’t know. Go get the car if you’re coming with me otherwise go back inside with Charlie before he starts wondering where we went.” The man was walking down the alley towards them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll go get the car.” Tommy said. “I’ll-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shelby!” the man roared. Tommy’s head jerked up, the man had pulled a gun out from inside of his coat and was leveling it at them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The next few seconds somehow happened in both a flash and an eternity. Tommy grabbed Grace’s arm and moved to pull her out of danger. The man pulled the trigger. Grace stumbled into Tommy just in time to take the bullet in her chest.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy had accidentally pulled her directly into the bullet’s path.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy woke up gasping, his heart thundering in his ears. He was covered in Grace’s blood, his own screams for help and her horrible dying gasps echoing in his ears. He pushed the blankets aside and stumbled out of the bedroom. He made it to the bathroom and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, heaving up all the whiskey he’d drunk the day before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the retching stopped he stripped off his bloody clothes, turned the shower on as hot as it would go and stepped into the spray. He scrubbed until his skin was raw, trying in vain to get the blood off. It was like it had sunk into his skin and refused to let go. As if it intended to remain forever as proof of his guilt. His heart was racing at a million miles an hour and he couldn’t breathe. He was going to die in this shower and it would be for the best. He had gotten Grace killed after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After what felt like an eternity his panic crested and began to ease. Slowly he realized that he was in the bathroom at Polly’s house early in the morning on Boxing Day. Grace had bled out in his arms months ago. He’d had a nightmare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His legs gave out and he crumbled to the floor of the shower and curled into a ball. The scalding hot water pelted down onto him, but he could barely feel it. He panted for breath in little gasps which were almost but not quite sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lay on the floor of the shower until the hot water ran out. Then he finally managed to drag himself to his feet and towel himself off. He was shaking both from the absence of adrenaline and from cold. The clothes he’d slept in were wrinkled and sweat stained but he pulled them back on anyway before dumping the towel into the laundry hamper and leaving the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully it was early enough that the rest of the family was still asleep. He didn’t think he could have coped if they’d been awake. He’d left the door to his and Ada’s room open when he’d rushed to the bathroom, but she was still asleep, the blankets pulled up over her ears like she had when she was a kid. He fished the last pill out of his wallet and swallowed it. He was tempted to just sit down and have a cigarette while he waited for it to kick in, but that wasn’t possible. He needed to get moving, otherwise he’d be stuck here for the rest of the day and he did not have another hour with the family in him, not now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved his things into his duffle bag and then went and gathered Charlie’s little suitcase and loaded both bags into the car along with all their Christmas presents. He dumped Arthur and John’s gift into the neighbor’s trash bin in a fit of pettiness that he’d probably regret. He thought about doing the same with Ada’s gift--after all, what use did he have for a fucking weighted blanket?--but stopped himself at the last minute and loaded it into the trunk with the rest of the gifts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the car was loaded he went back inside and woke Charlie. Charlie was disappointed to not have more time to play with his cousins, but he got ready to leave agreeably enough once Tommy suggested he pretend he was a secret agent trying to escape without his captors realizing it. They were in the car and driving away from Polly’s house before any of the rest of the family even made a peep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy was pretty sure he shouldn’t be so relieved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few months before, Tommy had sold the huge manor house he’d bought for Grace and moved him and Charlie into an apartment in a bougie part of Birmingham. It was something like defeat, he supposed because the other gangs of Birmingham and London had assumed he’d sold the house because he hadn’t been able to afford it, which was inconvenient for his business efforts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The real reason he’d decided to sell the house was because he’d been basically incapable of sleeping there after Grace. There’d been an incident where he’d hallucinated Grace stalking him through the house covered in blood. He acknowledged that the whole thing had probably been brought on by sleep deprivation and an extremely large amount of whiskey and might have actually been a nightmare, but after that he couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The apartment he’d found was nice. It was the sort of apartment a rich man would live in, which was fortunate because that’s what he was these days. In fact, it might have been the kind of place he’d have moved into by himself if not for Grace. The house had been for Grace, but he couldn’t have stayed in the family home for much longer either way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, the apartment needed to be cleaned. There were dishes and laundry to do, garbage to take out and far, far too many boxes to unpack, especially since he and Charlie had lived here for six months. There was no excuse for it, but he couldn’t work up the energy to do any of it most of the time. He told himself that he was just tired from working so much, but he knew that wasn’t it. He should just hire a maid, but Frances had started getting on his nerves towards the end of their time at the house, always asking how he was, hiding the booze and generally behaving like she was his mother not his employee. It had almost been a relief to let her go when he and Charlie moved out. Even ignoring that, the idea of letting another human into the apartment to see the state of it was too humiliating to bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that the fun of pretending to be a secret agent had passed, Charlie was visibly disappointed to not still be at Pol’s, but Tommy put on one of the new kids movies John and Esme had given him and Charlie was willing to soldier on. Tommy was proud of him. At first Charlie had cried so much and Tommy had been too tired or too drunk to comfort him and so kept foisting him on Ada or Frances. Moving had been the kick Tommy needed to finally get his act together and start caring for his own son again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie was his main priority now. On days when he felt so hollowed out that even dealing with the business was difficult, after work he focused all his leftover energy on what Charlie needed and let the rest fall to the wayside, hence the dishes and laundry and still-packed boxes. Charlie was doing better now, though. He still had a lot of nightmares, but overall he seemed more stable than he had in the months right after Grace’s death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy figured it was good that one of them had managed that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Charlie distracted by the movie, Tommy brought the bags and presents inside, then stood in the kitchen looking around. He should do dishes. He really should, but he still felt shivery and unsteady from the nightmare, like he might fly apart if he jostled himself too hard. After a moment, he sighed and headed into his bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His conscious focus on spending his limited energy on Charlie and the business meant that the states of things that only he used was even sorrier than the state of things both he and Charlie used. Most of his things were still in boxes, including most of his clothes and all his books (he hadn’t been able to read since Grace had died anyway so that at least barely mattered). He’d gone out and bought a new shaver as opposed to digging through the boxes to find his old one. The bed was bare too. The idea of finding his sheets and quilts and then making the bed was so exhausting it was completely overwhelming. It was far easier to just wrap himself in a throw blanket from the couch and sleep on the bare mattress. He spent a lot of nights in Charlie’s room soothing Charlie’s nightmares too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crossed the bedroom, doing his best not to look at the bed or any of the boxes. The bathroom was just as much a disaster as the rest of the apartment. His hamper was overflowing, an ominous reminder that if he didn’t manage to do laundry tonight he wouldn’t have any clean pants to wear tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled the right hand cabinet open. The left hand one was completely empty. That had been Grace’s side and he couldn’t bring himself to fill it. On the top shelf of the cabinet were three prescription bottles with his name on them, two full and one nearing empty. He pulled out the partially empty one and unscrewed the cap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pills were a leftover prescription from a couple years before when he’d run afoul of a disgusting priest and had his head smashed in against the wall of a public bathroom. He’d stopped taking the pills he’d been prescribed almost as soon as he’d gotten home from the hospital because they made him foggy and sometimes he saw things that weren’t there. He’d kept filling the prescription in an attempt at keeping Grace from getting on his case about it, though he sort of doubted that she’d actually been convinced. The pill bottles had lived in the very back of his bathroom cabinet until he’d moved. He should have just dumped them down the toilet or something, but he’d packed them anyway. In the last couple months he’d started to take them, when he couldn’t sleep or after he’d had a nightmare. It helped him calm down and fall asleep. He told himself there were no possible issues with this and that he was making a logical choice with the options he had on hand, but he knew neither of those things were true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t going to stop him, though. He poured a pill into his hand and swallowed it. He was half tempted to take another one, but it hadn’t been that long since the one at Polly’s and he couldn’t risk an overdose. He closed the bottle and put it back on its shelf. On his way back through the bedroom he picked up one of the throws twisted on his mattress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie was watching his movie and laughing. Tommy wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and folded himself onto the couch with a cigarette and tried to lose himself in Charlie’s laughter and the pills and forget how he’d ended up here.</span>
</p>
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